A Real Christmas
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Blaine is about to break his neck to make sure that his newly adopted daughter has a real Christmas. But aside from being a doting new parent, Kurt is beginning to think there's something else behind Blaine's sudden obsessive holiday behaviour. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge Day 2 prompts bury/cinnamon. I stole a little inspiration from two of my fave movies - "Where the Heart Is" and "City Slickers" XD**

"Explain to me why we're doing this again," Kurt asks, fighting against the immense cold and the overwhelming darkness to hide the terror roiling in his stomach at the sight of his husband climbing up what has to be the tallest oak tree he's ever seen in his life without any protective gear of any kind. Kurt had tried to use his cell phone flashlight to give his husband some light, but it didn't work, the beam of white light doing little to break through the black. So he opted to save his battery instead, in case of an emergency.

"This is … _mmph_ … Tracy's first Christmas ( _grunt_ ), and I ( _ow_ … _shoot_!) want it to be a ( _Fuck fuck fuck! Splinter!)_ _real_ Christmas. Nothing artificial. That means a real tree, real mistletoe …"

"Real broken limbs …"

"Have a little faith in me, will you?" Blaine calls down – a bit snappishly, but Kurt attributes that to the wind whipping mercilessly around them. "We may have graduated high school over a decade ago, but I'm still the athlete I was back then, if I do say so myself."

"True, but even back then you weren't climbing trees!"

"You don't know. I had a life outside of you."

"You do know that it's completely acceptable to _purchase_ mistletoe," Kurt says, hoping his voice carries high enough for Blaine to hear. "Nurseries have real mistletoe. Home Depot, Lowe's, even 7-11. It's right there at the counter! There's a 7-11 off the highway. We can swing by, buy a sprig, and go back to our nice, safe, _warm_ home." Kurt watches Blaine scurry up the trunk like a squirrel when he reaches a bare patch, holding his breath till he finally makes it to the next branch and grabs hold. "I'll make hot chocolate – _real_ hot chocolate - with _real_ whipped cream and _real_ cinnamon." Blaine doesn't answer, and a lump grows in Kurt's throat. If Blaine can't hear Kurt, then Kurt might not be able to hear Blaine. What if he gets himself in trouble? What if his foot slips? What if loses a hand hold?

What if he gets attacked by a raccoon?

Then again, what did Blaine expect Kurt to do if any of that _did_ happen!? Kurt doesn't climb trees! He never has, and now would not be the best time to learn. Plus, if Blaine starts falling down, Kurt climbing up won't do anyone any good. They should have brought climbing gear. Or a ladder. Or a trampoline!

"I'll put in some mini marshmallows," Kurt continues, unwilling to give up. "You-you know they're your favorites."

With a lurch, Blaine finally reaches the branch he's been aiming for. He repositions himself on his stomach and starts shimmying across.

And that's when Kurt's heart officially stops beating.

From down below, the branch looks like a sturdy one. But another harder wind blows in an effort to prove Kurt wrong, shaking Blaine until he has to stop and curl around the branch to keep from falling off.

"Blaine!" Kurt yells, jumping up and down, holding out his arms in preparation for that branch to break and his husband to plummet. After sixty long seconds, the wind dies down, and Blaine's bobbing on the branch stops.

"I'm … I'm alright," Blaine says, swallowing down his fear loud enough that Kurt hears it. "It's … it's only a few feet, and then I've got it."

The mistletoe! The fucking mistletoe! Kurt was so scared for his husband's life that he almost forgot.

Kurt glares angrily at the insipid ball of vampire fungus Blaine is trying to get, wondering why in the hell it had to be so far off the frickin' ground! There are plenty of branches within standing reach for that thing to suck the life out of. But no, this particular ball of mistletoe – the perfect ball, in Blaine's opinion – had to grow twenty flippin' feet in the air!

"Blaine," Kurt begins, not above begging if that's what it takes to get his husband out of that damned tree, "you realize that, at that height, if you fall, we'll have to bury you under this tree." Kurt's being morbid, but he prays that the thought of Blaine's probable death will make his husband rethink this ludicrous decision. "I won't even have to dig a hole. The pressure will drive you into the ground."

"Ha-ha," Blaine says humorlessly, scooting across the branch to Kurt's dismay.

"Then I'll have to bring Tracy here every Christmas," Kurt adds, his voice rising in both volume and pitch, "to build a little snowman memorial to her father!"

"Kurt …" Blaine's body sags against the branch, physically and emotionally exhausted. "I'm … I'm sorry. I'm sorry I dragged you out here in the middle of the night, and I'm sorry that I'm up in this stupid tree. But this is important to me. Okay?"

"O-okay." Kurt nods, though he knows there's no way Blaine can see, and watches silently as his husband hacks away at the portion of the branch that's connected to the mistletoe. Blaine starts off with even sawing motions, but eventually degrades into random, angry stabs when the mistletoe won't break free. He pauses momentarily to wipe the back of his hand across his forehead.

No. Not across his forehead. Across his cheek. Like he might be crying. Kurt can't see him clearly, but he doesn't think Blaine is hurt. If he could just get his husband out of that tree, then they could talk about this face to face.

And Kurt could understand.

"Blaine? Sweetheart?" Kurt says, thankful that the wind has quieted down for now. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No." Blaine sniffs, returning to his cutting. But he slows down. Then he stops. "Maybe. Yes."

"Real tree, real mistletoe, real Santa Claus we had to drive two hours in a blizzard to see …" Kurt checks off as he tries to figure this out. Usually Kurt is the one in charge of their holiday schedule, but the second they discovered that Tracy's adoption had been approved and she would be home with them for Christmas, Blaine asked to take over this once.

Then all of this began.

"Well, he looked the most authentic," Blaine defends in a wobbly voice.

"Blaine …" The pieces finally line up in Kurt's head. He walks around the trunk of the tree to try and catch Blaine's eyes "… are you doing this because … you're afraid our family isn't _real_?"

Blaine stops cutting altogether. He folds his hands underneath his chin, and Kurt knows he's hit the nail on the head. Kurt had forgotten all about it after it happened, because it was one of those lame, thoughtless remarks people make when they think they're never wrong. That's the kind of person Blaine's grandmother is. Older than old and set in her ways, not willing to entertain for one second that any of her outdated beliefs may contribute to dividing the family she's cultivated. ' _I've always been a far-right conservative'_ she'll say unapologetically with a shrug and a smirk after making an unforgivable declaration in front of her gay grandson and his husband about the need for conversion therapy in middle and high schools, how it's God's will, and should be obeyed by all.

 _'Because we're a Christian nation. Says so right in the Constitution.'_

It didn't matter how many credible sources Blaine and Kurt cited to the contrary. There was no making her see reason.

Which is why Blaine and Kurt decided after they met Tracy, before they planned on adopting her, that Blaine's grandmother would no longer be a part of their lives.

That doesn't mean she didn't hear about Tracy through the family grapevine. That doesn't mean she didn't have an opinion.

That doesn't mean her opinion – that it's a shame Tracy won't have a _real_ family because her mom doesn't want to be in the picture; how she'll be cheated out of the institution that God wants for all of his children – though vile, unnecessary, and untrue, didn't break Blaine's heart. Because her opinion isn't unique. A lot of people in their lives - people who swore to support them no matter what, who wore rainbow flag pins and marched beside them in parades – have that opinion about _real_ families. To some people, a real family means a father and a _mother_ , and that opinion may never change.

But their opinion doesn't need to affect Kurt and Blaine. As long as they love one another, and for as long as they believe in that love, nothing can touch them.

 _Except this wind_ , Kurt thinks as another gust swirls through, nearly pushing him to the ground. But this one's low. It doesn't rustle the leaves where Blaine lays.

"Blaine …" Kurt perches up on his toes so his husband can hear him "… we are a _real_ family. You, me, and Tracy are a _real_ family, no matter what anyone else thinks. And no religion or law can change that. You know that, don't you?"

"I-I know." Blaine gazes at his husband with melancholy eyes. "And I know that some people will never change. But you think your family will, that they're going to love you and support you no matter what. We used to spend every Christmas at my grandmother's house. We spent two weeks out of the summer there. She knits me sweaters for my birthday. She taught me how to bake bread. I thought she'd be that for my children someday. It's hard remembering who she was while seeing her the way she is now, especially since she was probably always this way."

"I know, baby. And I think that, in your grandma's own way, she does still love you. But that doesn't mean she's a healthy person to be around." Kurt sighs when he sees the impact his words have on his husband. He wishes he could hold him, that Blaine wasn't up a tree while he says this to him. "You have to cut toxic people out of your life, because if you don't, they're going to poison you and poison you until you start questioning everything you believe. But you know what's just as important as the family you have no say in?"

"What?"

"The family you _choose_. And you have an _amazing_ family, Blaine, filled with people who would do _anything_ for you. And if your biological family doesn't want to support your decisions or how you live your life, then your chosen family are the people you need to cling to. Those are the people you need to _live_ for!"

Blaine chuckles at Kurt's emphasis. His husband may be a lot of things, but subtle isn't one of those. In the end, Blaine has to admit, this probably wasn't one of his smarter ideas, but he felt like, if he could pull it off, he might have accomplished something. Then the people in his life who don't agree with him, like his grandmother, would see how far he's willing to go, how hard he's willing to work to be the best father he can be, and that might change their minds.

But up in this tree, with nothing but the black void and his husband beneath him, he realizes how shortsighted he was.

He was working too hard to impress the wrong people.

"You're right," Blaine says. "I know you're right."

"Of course I'm right! So, please! Leave the parasitic fungus where it is and let's go! Let's go home and spend the evening with our adorable daughter, with your limbs intact!"

Blaine looks at his husband, then at the mistletoe in front of him. Kurt is right, this _is_ dangerous, but he's so close. Ludicrous or not, Blaine has to give it a shot.

"Hold on one second …" Blaine says, sawing away at the branch with all his might. "I think I can still do this!"

"Blaine!" Kurt yelps in disbelief. "Blaine Devon Ander-Hummel! Didn't we just …? Didn't we decide …? What are you …?" The wind picks up with a vengeance, cutting off the ends of Kurt's sentences. It works its way up the tree like a cyclone, shaking Blaine so violently, he flails both arms and legs, windmilling before he can clamp back on to his branch. Kurt, desperate to save him but with no idea how, hugs the tree trunk to keep it steady. He can barely watch as Blaine grabs hold of his mistletoe and backs down the tree using only one arm, but he does his best, figuring someone should witness Blaine if he drops like a rock and breaks his neck. Under different circumstances, Kurt might find Blaine barreling down the trunk of tree Tarzan-style sexy, but it's hard for him to think that way when he's mentally plotting the fastest route to the closest E.R. But quicker than it took him to climb up, Blaine hops down from the tree, grinning like an idiot and holding his prize aloft. "See?" he pants, his warm breath sending tiny clouds loose into the frigid air. "I t-told you I could do it!"

"Yes, you did." Kurt peers at his husband in the non-existent light and frowns. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, switches on the light, and takes a closer look. There's a finality in his expression that Blaine can't interpret. Kurt sees something on Blaine's face that makes his frown deepen, and he shakes his head. "But I'm still going to have to take you to a hospital."

"Why's that?"

"Because I think you're _real_ allergic to mistletoe."


End file.
